


lead me with your comet skies

by atlantisairlock



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Person of Interest (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, F/F, Marriage Proposal, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7055722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>amy takes season five hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lead me with your comet skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InfiniteFreedom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteFreedom/gifts), [Commandr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commandr/gifts).



> wanted to write a root x shaw fic as a form of escape from 5x10, realised i'm too traumatised to write anything. shacker will have to do. it's an entirely non-canon-compatible, making-up-lots-of-shit, pretty self-serving fic but at this point, frankly i think we deserve it. 
> 
> it's rushed. probably not my best shacker fic ever but i'm too numb to refine it at the moment. will probably come back to it when it finally stops reminding me of 5x10.
> 
> just needed to gift my fic to someone. anyone. so it'll go to people i've noticed have liked and supported my shacker fic so far. thanks, guys. i appreciate it.
> 
> title from 'rest of your life' by the sam willows.

An hour before NYCC 2015, Greg comes up to all of you while you're having cast lunch and tells you, matter-of-fact, how all of your characters are going to die. This is also done in startling detail. You think Greg's taking pleasure in your expressions of mingled shock, horror and bewilderment. It's - not pretty. 

Well. It's a real fun time doing the con after that. When the final panel's done, you all sit together in silence for a while before Jim suggests you all hit up a bar and get wiped to forget the day ever happened. 

It's a good suggestion. You end up sitting at the counter beside a morose Amy nursing a decidedly non-alcoholic Sprite. She doesn't look at you for a while. When she finally speaks, she's quiet. 

"I don't like it," Amy says softly, fiddling with her straw. "It's like lying to them - to the fans, Sarah. This isn't what they want - or deserve. I know it's not in the cards for any of our characters to have a happy ending, but writing Root off like this?" She shakes her head. "It's not right. And it's not conscionable to tell them she's going to be happy, that we're..." Amy gestures at the space between both of you. "That the two of us, we're going to be happy. That's not fair, and it's not the truth."

She looks despondent, which stirs discomfort in the pit of your stomach - you hate seeing her sad. "Not spoiling them isn't a lie," you offer, but she shakes her head adamantly. "It's not - that's - we're leading them on! The simulations, the separation, the reunion being immediately followed by her death..." 

Without really thinking about it, you reach over and grab her hand, sliding the pad of your thumb against her pulse point. You don't know what to say, but you want to reassure her any way you can. It takes you a bit more than a minute to notice what you're doing -  _really_ notice - but what makes you breath hitch is the fact that Amy doesn't pull away. You look up at her and her pupils are blown, her fingers tangling with yours, a little tentative, a little hopeful. Around you, the rest of the bar's patrons fade away, until it's just her in your line of sight. There's just something about her eyes in this light, and the gentle pressure of her hand in yours... 

Amy angles her chair so she's facing you, sits a little closer, and you can see the slightest hint of a smile on her face. "Thank you."

"Yeah," you answer, a little dazed, and the moment ends there. Amy starts talking about something else, casual and light, but she doesn't let go of your hand for the rest of the night. 

 

 

The months go by, and before you know it, you're settling down in front of your set to watch BSOD live. You don't talk about it on Twitter, but Amy keeps up a constant stream of cheerful commentary that makes you smile. 

She calls you, after, in tears. "I can't do it, Sarah. They're so happy. They're so happy and in  _one month_ they're just going to be screwed over." 

You listen to her sobbing for all of two seconds before you get up and jog to your wardrobe. "Give me a minute to change. I'm coming over." 

About half an hour later you're sitting at her kitchen table with a box of tissues in front of both of you and Amy venting out all of her frustration. She cries and screams and talks and you just listen until she finally exhausts herself and falls asleep. You scoop her into you arms and carry her into her room, tuck her in. It's reassuringly intimate. 

You're pulling the sheets over her when she drowsily reaches out and closes her fingers around your wrist. You freeze. 

"Don't go," Amy murmurs, and your heart skips a beat. "Stay." 

The thing is, you want to. 

You gaze down at her, looking so peaceful and delicate, and here's what's different about Amy, what distinguishes her from all the other people you've ever loved - this time, you do. You slide under the covers beside her and let her pull you into a hug, curl into her. It's the first night you fall asleep in Amy's arms. 

When you wake up the next morning to the sun streaming in, you can't help but wonder if it'll be the last. 

 

 

The night they screen 6,741, you're prepared - you grab ice cream and chocolate and bags of marshmallows, toss it all in the backseat of your car and pull up in Amy's driveway. She's evidently surprised to see you. "Sarah, you didn't need to - "

You interrupt her by elbowing your way in and putting your bagfuls of comfort food on the coffee table. "What, you really thought I was going to let you get through  _this_ episode alone after what happened when they screened BSOD?" 

Her smile is all the thanks you need, and you know you made the right decision. 

Surprisingly, neither of you end up crying. Amy just leans in, rests her head on your shoulder, and you both watch your work. You don't talk about how The Day The World Went Away is creeping closer, or how you might never work together again. 

You stay the night, again, but this time you just watch her sleep for a while. 

A lot of things have changed since you both met, you think. You can't imagine a life any different, now - or more accurately, a life without Amy.

And somehow that doesn't scare you as much as you think it should.  

 

 

It's a Tuesday when it finally ends. #PersonOfInterest trends on Twitter. There's an outpouring of gratitude and tears in equal measure in your mentions. A snowstorm's settled over Los Angeles and you're at home sitting by the window. It's the first night in a long time you haven't been over at Amy's on a show night, something about having something or another to do, and you find yourself missing her - she's suspiciously quiet on Twitter, and you follow suit. You don't really want to be talking about Return 0, not after all that's happened. You're idly watching silhouettes of random figures clothed in heavy coats and scarves and hats walking past and wondering who would be foolhardy enough to be trying to navigate the streets with visibility so low when your doorbell rings. 

You're not sure if you're really surprised or not when you open the door and it's Amy standing on your front steps, hands tucked into the pockets of her winter jacket and a beanie snugly fitted onto her head. There are snowflakes melting on her cheeks. She's gorgeous. You wonder why it's taken this long for you to notice. You think back to that very first Monday at table read, so many years ago, before you knew you were going to fall in love, so slow and quiet and tender - and it feels right. It feels like a circle has been closed, something is complete. 

 _I love her,_ you think, and she opens her mouth, and you almost think she's going to say it first -  

"Pretty wild out there," she comments instead, without making a move into the house. You have to pull her in by the elbow, shut the door behind her, and pull her down into a searing kiss. You find yourself cataloguing the moment - the soft gasp of surprise she makes, the faint taste of her strawberry chapstick, the way her collar feels starchy and rough crushed in your fists, how her hands find their way to your waist, the way she kisses you back. 

You could kiss her forever. 

Of course you're both human and there's the whole problem of breathing, which means that eventually you stumble back a few steps and inhale, feeling lightheaded and disbelieving and ridiculously besotted. She's smiling, clasping your forearms so you don't fall, and she's breathless when she speaks. "I didn't come here for that, exactly, but it was a welcome surprise."

"I'll bet," you answer, and she laughs. You laugh with her, until you finally process what she said. "Wait, then what did you come here for?"

She's flushed, and you're beginning to realise it's not just because of the cold temperatures when she drops down on one knee, fumbles in her pocket and presents you with a tiny velvet box that sits in her palm. She looks earnest and nervous and hopeful all at once, and you can hear your heart thudding in your ears. 

"I know we haven't actually really been dating. Not really. Even after all this time we've been together." She laughs a little self-consciously. "Sarah, I haven't - I think I've loved you from the start. For so long. And there's nobody I'd rather be with. This is what I want, forever. Marry me," she says simply. "You've made me happy when I was sad, so many times over - now let me make you happy for the rest of our lives." 

And really, there's only one thing you can say in the face of that - 

_"Yes."_

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer:
> 
> i don't own person of interest or cbs or warner, etc. i don't know any of the cast personally. i don't profit from this fic; it's just for fun. this fic isn't meant to be in character or to represent anything happening in real life or whatever. no insinuations or disrespect meant towards any of the cast or their families or their respective spouses et al. probably really incorrect wrt all the technical bits bc i haven't had much prior experience in the film industry. aka everything i've written in this fic is FICTIONAL. for ENJOYMENT.
> 
> please for the love of god DON'T come to the comments section going off about how rpf is Disrespectful and Gross and Wrong and Weird - which seems to be a trend on shacker fics - unless you intend to comment the exact same thing on every single phan and one direction and hockey fic that exists on this site as well. it's just annoying.


End file.
